


my heart keeps missing a beat

by mthslh



Category: Rock Music RPF, The Who (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Crack, Hair Kink, Hair Washing, I’m sorry, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Praise Kink, Smut, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 11:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22355398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mthslh/pseuds/mthslh
Summary: john asks peter to come in and play on his new album, but that’s not all he wants.
Relationships: John Entwistle/Peter Frampton
Kudos: 15





	my heart keeps missing a beat

**Author's Note:**

> nobody’ll read this but it’s ok  
> fyi this is based on Peter recording the guitar for Ten Little Friends on Whistle Rymes so... y’know  
> also no wives blah blah blah

Peter hadn’t expected to actually have to interact with John Entwistle so soon. 

Sure, they’d met before, but John was a mentor figure, six years older and seemingly infinitely wiser. It was natural to get “crushes” on older people— at 22, Peter had lots of experience with being attracted to younger teachers, male and female alike. When he realized his feelings for John after a run-in at a bar, he’d gotten by with the knowledge that they’d never meet again, reducing the other man to a fantasy he’d think of late at night, muffling his cries into his pillow.

But then John had called him up for a guitar solo, and, well, how could Peter say no?

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting that day, but he wasn’t entirely comfortable as he walked into John’s home, passing through the kitchen to get to the studio. It felt intrusive, in a way, but also oddly domestic.

After making awkward small talk with John and plugging in his guitar, John just... sat there, watching Peter play.

The first try, Peter fucked up a note at the beginning, but John just grinned and they tried again. “Ah, I’ll quit lookin’ at your pretty face, kid. Give ya some space.” His voice was sexy even when he joked, low and growling, and it made Peter’s cock jump in his pants.

It was a joke, of course. Right? John was a horny bastard, but only for women— at least that Peter knew of. John walked out, resetting the tape in the adjacent room, and Peter’s next try was perfect.

John came back inside. “Good boy,” he growled.

Peter was sure his face was flushed bright red. A few words shouldn’t be enough to get him more than half-hard, but here he was.

“I... I’d ought to be going now, I think. If we’re done, I don’t want to, to impose.”

“Don’t be silly, boy. You just trekked out here, you should at least stay for tea.”

He wasn’t gonna be able to handle it, but Peter agreed nonetheless, drunk on the idea of time with John.

Peter sat at the kitchen table while John busied himself making the tea. He watched as John hummed the song he’d just played, putting the kettle on and rifling through the teabags, and then pouring the tea into 2 mugs.

“Could you grab the sugar? Top shelf on the right.”

Peter tried, afraid of hurting his pride, but the shelves were made for someone 4 inches taller than him. John noticed him struggling and came over.

“You need some help there?”

“No, I’ve—“ and just like that, Peter was being lifted in John’s strong arms. He made a squeaking sound and grabbed the sugar, the erection he’d willed away quickly coming back. John placed him back down, and Peter leaned on the counter, catching his breath.

“Something got you flustered, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I just need... I’m just...” At this point Peter couldn’t even hide his hard-on under John’s gaze.

“Looks like you could use a little... help.”

“Are you mocking me?” Peter was embarrassed that the older man was seeing him this way, anything but calm and indifferent.

“No. I wouldn’t do that.” John leaned closer, standing over Peter.

With that, Peter couldn’t take it anymore. He crashed his lips against John’s, letting his body think instead of his mind. John was a rough kisser, licking into Peter’s mouth forcefully.

John was kissing him back.

“What do you want from this, Peter?”

“Anything you’ll give me.”

They were equally hard now, John biting Peter and kissing him like there was no tomorrow.

“Legs up.”

Peter propped himself up on the counter and, in one deft movement, John picked him up bridal-style. Peter couldn’t contain himself this time, and moaned sharply, and then grimaced and covered his face in shame.

“Oh, baby, don’t be shy. Love your voice,” John murmured, carrying him across the room, “wanna hear you, pretty boy.”

Peter was unceremoniously thrown onto John’s bed, which smelled like fresh laundry and mint. The pillows were stained a blue-black from his hair dye, but they were clean, and Peter didn’t mind anyway as long as they smelled like John. As Peter caught his breath, John rifled through a drawer next to his bed, finally procuring a bottle of lube.

“You clean?”

“Physically, or, uh, disease-wise? Either way, uh, yeah.”

“Such a good boy.”

Peter whimpered softly under John’s gaze. They were both fully clothed, Peter splayed out on the bed and John standing above him. Peter’s pants were tented, and his golden hair was spread out across the pillows. He’d dressed up, nervous for the occasion, and was regretting wearing something with so many buttons. John, on the other hand, was wearing a tee shirt and black trousers, and wasn’t quite as flustered, although he was certainly achingly hard.

John tilted Peter’s head back up for a kiss, crawling up onto the bed and above Peter. He reached down and begun undoing Peter’s shirt buttons, ghosting his strong, calloused fingers over Peter’s body, and across Peter’s nipples.

Peter let out a cry. “Oh, God, I won’t be able to... to hold it if you keep—“

“You gonna come in your pants, darling? I’ll make you come in your pants, and then I’ll fuck you ‘till you come again.”

Peter had never come twice in one night, but then again, he’d never been with someone so in tune with his body, treating him roughly but sweetly, making him dizzy with lust. He was sure he could do it.

John removed Peter’s shirt and returned his attention to his nipples, this time teasing with his mouth. He went back up to the thin skin on Peter’s chest and at the crook of his neck, licking and sucking marks into his skin. He was biting, too, sending jolts of arousal through Peter’s body.

“John, oh, John, I’m going to—“

“Come for me, Peter,” John said in Peter’s ear, and put his palm on Peter’s dick, and with that he was gone. Peter came with a scream, shuddering through it, as John pet his hair.

“Good boy, so perfect for me. Perfect, baby boy.”

Peter closed his eyes and breathed— he was still incredibly aroused, but his orgasm had taken the edge off and set his thoughts a little bit straighter. He pushed the worry out of his mind— would John never want to look at him again? Was this a one-time thing?— and focused on his surroundings, of the smell of sex on John and the tender kisses he was receiving and, oh, the problem with his pants.

John, bless him, carefully unbuttoned and took off Peter’s trousers and his underwear. All at once Peter became awfully conscious of the fact that he was naked and John was fully dressed, and, shaking the drowse from his eyes, reached up to take John’s shirt off. He gladly obliged, shucking the rest of his clothing as well. His cock was thicker than Peter’s and a bit bigger too, already a bit wet with precome.

“Oh, John, let me suck you off.” Peter’s head was fuzzy from the orgasm and the arousal alike, but he knew what he wanted.

“Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me.” John’s hand was still anchored firmly in Peter’s hair. “How’d you like to do it?”

Peter thought for a second. The few men he’d done this with had wanted him on his knees on the floor, but that was uncomfortable. “Lay on your side, I think.”

John obliged, propping himself up. Peter motioned for him to part his legs, and then lay down as well, his head right at John’s cock. He buried his face in it— he could hardly believe that this was how today was going, how he was about to suck John Entwistle’s dick. He breathed in, the smell intoxicating, John’s hair tickling his nose and his thighs rather soft, and got down to business.

At first, he just mouthed at it, teasing. He licked up a vein, causing John to shudder, and then pulled back to nurse at the head of his cock. Finally, he took John in his mouth and hollowed his cheeks, remembering everything he’d done or had done to him.

John’s hand flew back up to Peter’s hair, moaning and sending vibrations through the cock in his mouth.

“God, would you pull it already?” Peter pulled off again. “I’m not fragile.” He went back down, swirling his tongue around the tip of John’s cock.

John needed no more instruction, quickly tangling his hands through Peter’s golden hair and tugging when he found something particularly pleasing. Peter couldn’t take him all in his mouth, but he certainly tried until he choked, little tugs at his scalp encouraging him. At this point, he was hard again, too.

John was even more talkative when his dick was being sucked. “Oh, lovely boy, you’re so goddamn beautiful. So wonderful for me. Fuckin’ gorgeous, pretty little mouth, look like a damn angel.”

Finally, John began to tense up, but then pulled back. “Baby, if we’re getting anything else done today, you gotta stop before I come.”

Peter had forgotten about the “anything else” in the time after coming, but he was certainly pleased it was happening. He handed John the lube from the table, and John squeezed out a generous amount and warmed it in his hands.

“Peter, baby, you ready?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

Their positions were flipped once more, Peter face-down underneath John, and John was teasing him, fingering the area around his hole, not inside.

“God, John... fuckin’ big fingers.”

John pulled back, his first sign of uncertainty all day. “You can prepare yourself, if you need...”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

With this confirmation, John pushed his finger inside Peter, making the smaller man gasp. When it was apparent that it was an easy fit, he slipped in another. Peter craned his neck up and John kissed him, taking his mind away from the temporary pain. Finally, he eased in a third finger, making Peter writhe and groan underneath him.

“John, I’m ready, I can take it.”

“You’re sure?”

“As sure as I’ll ever be. But... can I see you?”

John agreed, flipping Peter back over and hooking his legs near his shoulders, allowing easy access. He got another healthy palmful of lube, slicking himself up, and positioned himself near Peter’s entrance.

Peter felt vulnerable under John in a way he’d never felt before. John had one arm firmly positioned at the cleft of Peter’s ass and one wrapped under his arm and across his back, cradling his head in his large hand. Peter reached up, bracing himself on John’s broad shoulders.

Once he got into a rhythm, John was unstoppable— just like when he played bass. At first, he pushed in and out slowly, but when Peter got impatient, he began slamming in and out at a steady pace. He was pulling cries and mewls from Peter with every thrust, and was making no small amount of noise himself. Peter was seeing stars, and could feel his second orgasm coming on.

“God, John, I’m gonna—“

John took one of his supporting hands off of Peter and began jacking him off. Peter’s cock was still sensitive from the first time, and it was almost too much. Finally, he tugged one last time at Peter’s hair, and he fell to pieces, clenching and bringing John after him, filling him with cum. Peter screamed in pleasure and fell back onto the bed, and John placed him down carefully and lay down next to him.

After a few minutes of basking in each other’s presence, John stood up and walked into the en suite bathroom. Peter panicked— was John done with him? Was he supposed to leave?— but then heard water running. 

John came back into the room with a glass of water for Peter and one for himself, and said, “Peter, would you shower with me? We’re a bit... sticky.” With a grimace, Peter stood up, and they walked into the bathroom. John helped him into the huge shower.

Peter sighed when the warm, soothing water hit his body, and then turned to John. “Are we gonna see each other again?”

John seemed surprised. “Peter, of course, if you’ll have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more... but what will your band think? The press?”

“They don’t need to know yet.”

John got some shampoo off the shelf and lathered Peter’s hair with it. The gentle massage of his scalp was incredibly soothing, and he lay his head against John’s chest.

“You really are gorgeous, you know,” John said, his voice still gruff, but sincere. “I love your hair. So lovely.” He rinsed his hair as gently as he could, and then washed their bodies with a cloth. “You’re lovely, you’re perfect.”

Peter sighed against John’s chest. “Never thought I’d fall for a tall, dark and handsome type. And so strong...”

“You’ve fallen for me?”

“I, well, I, er...”

“I think I’ve fallen for you, too.” Peter would process that, process all this later. John turned off the water and wrapped him up in a towel, and finally carried him into the bed they’d just fucked on. He laid Peter under the blankets and crawled next to him— it wasn’t awfully late, but they were both spent. John idly carded his fingers through Peter’s hair, thumbing through a book, as Peter dozed off.

“Thank you, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> 1972 was pre-Frampton Comes Alive. his hair was a bit less curly, but pretty much the same. Entwistle, meanwhile, had that... interesting long haircut and bangs. Frampton was 22, Entwistle 28.


End file.
